


shrinkyclinks meet-punch

by ixalit



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Dom/sub Undertones, First Meetings, M/M, Non-Serum Steve Rogers/Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes | Shrinkyclinks, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-14
Updated: 2020-08-14
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:14:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25901149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ixalit/pseuds/ixalit
Summary: Bucky knew he was in trouble the second Steve walked through the doors of Goldie’s Gym. If you boiled Bucky’s type down to its barest, most fundamental elements, this man ticked off every box on the list.He was a little slip of a thing. The top of his head barely reached above Bucky’s shoulder, and his size was only accentuated by the baggy tee and basketball shorts. He kept pushing too-long, golden bangs out of his face, and they kept falling back, hiding one of his eyes.When the man stopped in front of him, Bucky got a better look and was struck by the details. Like how his nose was a little crooked - as if he’d broken it a long time ago in one too many fights. Or the sharp edges of his jaw when he squared it and looked Bucky straight in the eye.With a sharp inhale, Bucky let himself be pinned by his steady gaze. There was something about the hint of fire shining through his guarded eyes that left Bucky’s knees feeling a little weak.Yeah. Bucky was definitely in trouble.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Comments: 42
Kudos: 288





	shrinkyclinks meet-punch

**Author's Note:**

> Huge thanks to [darter_blue](/users/darter_blue/) and [rainbowsandcoconut](https://rainbowsandcoconut.tumblr.com) for beta'ing and keeping me excited about this!!

Bucky knew he was in trouble the second Steve walked through the doors of Goldie’s Gym. If you boiled Bucky’s type down to its barest, most fundamental elements, this man ticked off every box on the list. 

He was a little slip of a thing. The top of his head barely reached above Bucky’s shoulder, and his size was only accentuated by the baggy tee and basketball shorts. He kept pushing too-long, golden bangs out of his face, and they kept falling back, hiding one of his eyes.

He was here with Nat, a woman Bucky trained with sometimes. She was pretty fun to spar with, especially after she’d started playing dirty and he started ending up face down on the mat. 

Bucky waved to Nat, and she grinned, grabbing her friend’s hand and pulling him over. When they stopped in front of him, Bucky got a better look and was struck by the details. Like how his nose was a little crooked - as if he’d broken it a long time ago in one too many fights. Or the sharp edges of his jaw when he squared it and looked Bucky straight in the eye. 

With a sharp inhale, Bucky let himself be pinned by the man’s steady gaze. There was something about the hint of fire shining through his guarded eyes that left Bucky’s knees feeling a little weak. 

Yeah. Bucky was definitely in trouble. 

The next time Nat’s friend brushed his bangs out of the way, Bucky tracked the movement of his hand and noticed a fading bruise high on his left cheek. Unbidden, thoughts of cleaning Steve up after a fight flooded his mind. He imagined dabbing blood off split lips and tenderly kissing Steve’s bruised knuckles. Then he thought of Steve doing the same to him, and had to swallow down a strange fluttering in his stomach. He couldn’t remember ever getting butterflies - not before matches or even at Coney Island - but if that’s what the feeling was… 

Christ _,_ he was better than this. He had a _rule_ , dammit. After his last disaster of a boyfriend a couple years ago, he’d promised himself he wouldn’t start something with anyone he met at work. Sticking to that rule had kept him out of bad relationships. Had kept him out of all relationships, really, but it still worked. 

He cursed internally and looked down, like maybe the basket of freshly laundered wraps he’d been rolling held the cure for his strong, immediate attraction to gorgeous men with dangerous edges. 

“Steve, Bucky. Bucky, Steve,” Nat said by way of introduction, motioning between them. 

Bucky could practically feel the vibrating energy coursing off him in waves. He knew the feeling well - the buzzing under your skin that makes everything seem like a challenge, an opportunity to show your worth. It rarely began as actual violence or anger, just an overwhelming need to _do_ something that, more often than not, resulted in shouted threats and bloodied knuckles. 

Yeah, Bucky was well acquainted with that. It was why he’d started boxing in the first place, back when he was fifteen. Goldie had seen something in him, or maybe he’d just pitied him. Either way, he let Bucky in the ring in exchange for cleaning the gym three times a week. And now, over a decade later, Bucky was still here, having steadily worked his way up to a paying position. Now, he trained bored soccer moms and taught the next generation of punk teens how to put their destructive energy into something more useful. 

And apparently this guy. _Steve_. 

He extended his hand, and Steve’s surprisingly firm grip had Bucky’s pulse picking up. It wasn’t abnormal for his clients to try to prove themselves physically - hell, it was how he got most of them; people wanting to show they could match someone of his stature blow for blow - but hardly anyone actually had the strength and pertinacity to back it up. 

Nat crossed her arms and turned to Bucky. “He wants to start sparring. Show him the ropes?”

“Sure,” Bucky said, “Let’s get you wrapped up.”

He pulled two black wraps out of the basket and took one of Steve’s hands in his own. He looped the end around Steve’s thumb and started the tidy pattern with deft fingers. 

“Tell me if it’s too tight,” he muttered as Steve watched his hands. 

Steve snorted a quiet laugh and the corner of Bucky’s lips twitched up. He’d been wondering if Steve was gonna be all fight, and the fact that his mind went _there_ without any prompting just made the hearts in Bucky’s eyes grow. 

“So, is this your first time boxing?” Bucky asked as he secured the first wrap and reached for Steve’s other hand. 

Steve huffed a laugh. “Boxing? Yeah. Throwin’ a punch? No.” 

Bucky chuckled because, well, that was fairly obvious. 

“‘M from Bed-Stuy,” Steve added, “so it kinda comes with the territory.”

“Oh yeah? Whereabouts?”

“MacDougal. Near Rockaway,” Steve raised his eyebrows, clearly not expecting Bucky to know the area.

Bucky smirked, “I grew up on the corner of Marion and Boyland.”

Steve thought for a minute, an adorable crease forming on his forehead. “The brick one with the stupid little awnings that makes it look like a deli?”

“The very one,” Bucky laughed as he finished the second wrap. “Okay, you’re all set. I noticed your right wrist is a little atrophied-” and _oh,_ Steve did not like that at _all._ Bucky had only known him for fifteen minutes and could already hear the defensive reply on the tip of his tongue. “Just wondered if you hurt it recently,” he finished, raising his hands in a small “no offense” gesture. 

“Broke it a while ago,” Steve crossed his arms and shrugged.

“How long is ‘a while’? When’d you get the cast off?”

“Few days ago. It’s fine, really.” 

Bucky smiled and shook his head. Judging by the bruise on his face, that meant Steve had been in a fight with a broken wrist. And, God, that really shouldn’t make Bucky _more_ attracted to him. 

“Well, just take it easy. Pull your punches a little and don’t throw any at full force.”

Steve rolled his eyes. He also gave a short nod and a muttered “sure,” so Bucky let it go. 

He clapped Steve on the shoulder, and walked over to the equipment bins for gloves and focus mitts. 

“Meet me up there when you’re ready,” Bucky said, nodding to the raised platform in the middle of the gym and handing the gloves to Steve. 

He jumped swiftly onto the springy floor of the ring instead of using the stairs, and it was in no way related to how he could feel Steve watching. When Steve followed soon after, he held a gap open in the ropes for him to climb through, and definitely didn’t let his thoughts wander when the other man was bent over. 

Nat climbed into the ring after Steve and winked at Bucky with a small, teasing smirk before walking to the corner to watch.

Bucky tied his hair back in a rough approximation of a bun, put on the mitts, and settled into his stance. He watched Steve copy the positions of his feet and allowed himself to let out a pleased hum. 

“Alright. So it’s gonna be jab, cross, jab, cross, and then boom. Jab, cross, jab, cross, hook.” Bucky demonstrated the combination a few times because he wasn’t sure the way Steve was watching his arms was _entirely_ educational. And sue him, he liked that kind of attention. “Focus most of your force on the hook, that’s the main one. And make sure you keep breathing with every hit, okay?”

Steve nodded and shook his arms out as Bucky held up the pads.

“You’re new, so go slow if you need to. If you get lost, just pause and start at the beginning. Ready?”

“Yup.” Steve’s tone was hard and determined as he brought his gloves up to his face. 

The force and speed of Steve’s punches nearly knocked Bucky off balance. Damn, this guy could really hold his own. Could probably hold Bucky down, too; keep him in place. The thought made his gut clench and a grin spread over his face.

He bounced on the balls of his feet, readjusted his center of gravity, and said with a laugh, “Yeah. Yeah, okay, that was pretty good. Let’s go again.”

Steve’s first punch landed solidly in the center of the pad with a satisfying thud. His cross connected with Bucky’s cheek, and Jesus _fuck_ he was strong for how little he was. 

“Fuck,” Bucky cursed, wiping at his jaw. 

“Oh my god! I’m so sorry!” Steve said quickly as Bucky shook his head to clear the shock. 

“It’s okay. Let’s uh… Let’s try again.” He clapped his mitts together and took a defensive stance closer to the one he used when sparring. 

Steve raised his fists. 

This time, the first three hits landed where they were supposed to, but the second cross hit Bucky square in the cheek again, the same place as before. He was pretty sure he felt something crack a split second before white-hot pain blossomed through his face. He tucked to the side, kneeling and closing his eyes against his suddenly spinning head. 

Steve had jumped back the second his glove hit flesh, only to reach halfway forward again like he wasn’t sure of the best way to help.

“Shit!” Steve cursed, inhaling sharply through his grimace. “I’m so sorry. Again. _Fuck!_ Are you okay?”

Bucky groaned and nodded. He could feel the warmth of blood on his face, knew it probably looked pretty gnarly. He’d felt this distinct throbbing so many times before, he could tell what it was before he even checked. Somehow, the smaller man had managed to break his nose with just two well-placed punches. If Bucky’s pulse wasn’t racing before, it sure was now. 

In the back of his mind, he knew it was- Well, it was weird to be more turned on by someone after learning they could probably knock you out, right? He _did_ know that. There had always been that little, rational voice in the back of his mind that he could listen to - theoretically. 

Right now, though, Bucky wanted to completely ignore that voice. He wanted to say “fuck rationality,” and listen to the parts of him that were responding to the dichotomy of Steve’s slight frame and his quick, stubbornly hard punches. Wanted to give in to the magnetic force of Steve that had pulled Bucky in and left him craving more. 

“Sure you’re alright?” Nat asked from where she was lounging against the ropes.

Bucky coughed and spit out the coppery taste on his tongue. “Yeah. ‘M just peachy,” he answered, looking up at Steve and laughing. He sniffed and immediately regretted it when it ignited a fresh, sharp burst of pain. “Oh, man. ‘S’it look bad?”

“Uh. Yeah, kinda. Sorry,” Steve said. He did sound sorry, but Bucky watched the confidence drain from him as his shoulders slouched and he started to lightly scuff his shoes on the floor. Steve’s face pinched, and he looked like he was mentally scolding himself. Bucky didn’t know why - the punches had been mistakes, after all - but he didn’t like how the expression twisted Steve’s features. Or how he looked like he wanted to find a fight just to punish himself. 

Bucky knew that feeling, too - had given into it in his own way so many times it was a miracle he was still alive. 

Shaking himself from his thoughts, Bucky placed a friendly hand on Steve’s arm. “Hey. It’s good, man. I’m fine. No harm done, alright?”

His words seemed to lighten the load on Steve’s shoulders, if only a little. Bucky could even detect the barest hint of a smile when Steve finally met his eyes again. 

“Yeah. Okay.” 

“Let’s stop there for now,” Bucky suggested, wiping the blood still dripping from his nose. “I’ll get some ice and you go unwrap your hands.”

Steve was already nodding and pulling off his gloves.

• • •

Once Bucky was sat on the floor, holding a ziplock bag full of ice to his cheek, nose, eye - well, the whole side of his face, really - Steve walked over, in the middle of rolling up his wraps. 

Bucky peered up at him from behind the bag, trying and failing to hide a flinch when his eyes crinkled with a smile. “Thanks for doing that. Most people just leave ‘em lying around for us to clean up.”

“No problem,” Steve said, then diverted his eyes to a particularly interesting spot on the floor. “Least I could do after… Y’know.”

Bucky laughed gently. “Yeah. Helluva left hook you got there. You really put your hip into that one.”

“Mmh, ‘m sorry. Again. Must just be a habit, punching people instead of things.”

“Must be. You uh, you did warn me, though.” Bucky pulled the ice away from his face with a hiss. 

As Steve rolled his wrist around, massaging the undoubtedly sore joint, Bucky cursed himself for what he was about to do. Like he said, he had a rule. He wouldn’t - _didn’t_ \- normally do anything like this. But if he was gonna bend his rule for anyone, Steve was it. Besides, Steve could be straight. He didn’t think so, but he needed to know. Blame his inability to resist pretty men who played into his danger kink all you want, but Bucky knew he’d regret it if he didn’t at least try. “Hey. So I uh… I get off in a couple hours. Maybe you’d wanna buy me a drink? Make up for breakin’ my nose?”

“Seriously?” Steve asked incredulously. 

_Ah,_ Bucky thought, _So he is straight. Huh._ “Yeah. I mean, if you want to. No pressure, just. You seem like a cool guy. Thought I’d shoot my shot. Sorry, man. No worries.”

Steve quickly shook his head. “No. Wait, wait. No, I- I’m just surprised is all. People don’t usually… I’m not the type of person that people who look like you usually ask on dates, is all.” Awh, he was adorable when he got flustered, blush high on his cheeks. 

“Yeah? Well, I _am_ asking,” Bucky winked and grinned when Steve swallowed, his cheeks darkening. “Wanna meet back here at seven?”

Steve still looked a little shocked, but his face was slowly stretching into a matching grin. Eventually, he just looked Bucky up and down, laughed, and said, “Okay. You got yourself a date. You’d better wash all that blood off, though.” 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> As always, kudos, comments, and constructive criticism are welcome :)
> 
> Follow me on [tumblr](https://ixalit.tumblr.com)


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